


Not a Dream

by firefly124



Series: Seasons of Love [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert, seasons of love - heat of summer challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: It's a hot summer afternoon in Kansas.  Sam's home, though, and that makes it just about perfect.  It's almost enough to make you think it's a dream.





	Not a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [thing-you-do-with-that-thing](http://thing-you-do-with-that-thing.tumblr.com)'s [Seasons of Love - Heat of Summer](http://thing-you-do-with-that-thing.tumblr.com/post/177618534337/seasons-of-love-heat-of-summer-masterlist) challenge on Tumblr to the prompt Fireflies by Owl City. (When I saw that was an option, I couldn't resist.)

You carry two sweating glasses of sweet tea out to the yard and hand one to Sam. He rocks back onto his heels from where he’s kneeling by the row of lettuce. You shake your head at him.

“Did you actually find any weeds?” you ask. “Because I was pretty sure I got them all.”

“Doesn’t hurt to check,” he replies after taking a gulp of tea, “besides, I’ve missed this.”

You look at his filthy hands and smile. “I think you just like playing in the dirt. It’s only been a week and a half, anyway.”

“But they all grow so fast!”

You raise an eyebrow at him and laugh as realization dawns across his features just what that sounded like. His cheeks darken slightly and he takes another swig of tea as some kind of cover. 

“Anyway,” you say, grabbing his free hand and pulling him toward the swing, “time for a break.”

Sam pulls up the canopy before joining you on the swing. He’s as drenched in sweat as the outside of his glass, but it’d take more than that to stop you from leaning into him. Besides, you’re just as sweaty. 

It’s a relief to be in the slice of shade you’ve just created, and for a few moments you both just look at the garden and sip at your tea. This, you realize, is just the sort of thing you’d envisioned when you’d decided this was what the garden needed. Not that you haven’t enjoyed sitting out here when Sam’s off hunting, but having him here, safe, and enjoying this space you’ve both created, is something to savor. You half wonder if you’re dreaming.

“I have an idea for later,” he says after a bit.

“Oh?” You leave it at that, because it’s impossible to guess what he could have in mind. It could be anything from a movie marathon back at the bunker to one of his more creative ideas for the bedroom.

“I was thinking we could drive out to the lake for dinner,” he says. “Have a picnic.”

Yeah, that wouldn’t have made your top ten guesses. It does sound nice, though.

“Sure, we can do that,” you say. You lift your face to give him a sharp look. “You’re making the sandwiches, though. After a good shower.”

He just chuckles and slips an arm across your shoulders. 

“And I’ll take my shower while you’re making them,” you add as an afterthought.

“What fun is that?” he asks.

“Do you want to actually make it to the lake?” you counter.

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything more. You wonder if you’ve just made a mistake and decide not. It’s rare for Sam to suggest something like this, so it’s got to be something he really wants to do. You’re curious to figure out why.

~*~

By the time you make it to the lake in the next county, you wonder why either of you bothered showering. Your car’s air conditioning is doing the best it can, but you’re both still melting. At least you’d snagged bathing suits for the both of you after checking that it was open for swimming.

There are quite a few people around, which is a bit less romantic than you’d had in mind. Most are families with small children, though, so you have vague hopes that they’ll be heading home once it’s dark. You find a parking space and a picnic table easily enough though, and soon you’re both digging into the dinner Sam made.

It’s just simple sandwiches and slices of the first ripe watermelon you’d picked earlier today, but it’s perfect. You’re still not sure why this was something Sam wanted to do, but you’re already planning to do this again. It’s not as intimate as dinner at home would’ve been, but there’s a delicious domesticity to this too.

Slowly, the crowd does thin as the sun goes down and mosquitoes come out. Sam fishes a bottle of bug repellent out of the pocket on the side of the cooler and sprays you both down with it. Between how effective it is and the lack of commercial label on the bottle, you’re pretty sure it’s actually some kind of magical potion, but you’re not about to complain.

Once you’ve packed away the remnants of your dinner, you make your way down to the actual beach, spreading out a blanket and lying down on it to look up at the stars that are starting to become visible overhead. Sam sits next to you and hands you a bottled lemonade. You push up onto your elbows and look up at him.

“So, what made you think of coming here?” you ask.

Sam shrugs and looks out across the lake. You follow his gaze, and that’s when you figure it out.

In the darker patches of the treeline, you see little flashes of green. They blink in patterns that you can’t begin to decipher, and yet it still seems like a visual song of some kind. You can’t remember the last time you saw so many fireflies in one place, but then, there are no bodies of water like this in Lebanon. After a moment, you realize your jaw is hanging open.

“That’s why.” 

You look back over to Sam and see that he’s smiling at you. You snap your jaw shut.

“Sometimes I feel like I’ve brought all this horrible stuff into your life,” he says. “It’s not much, but I kind of wanted to bring you to something beautiful.”

Your heart twinges.

“Sam, you didn’t bring monsters into my life,” you say softly. There are fewer people, and most are out of hearing range, but you’re careful anyway. “They showed up all on their own. You saved my life and taught me to protect myself.”

He shrugs, his expression unreadable.

“Still,” you continue, “you’re right. This is beautiful. Thank you.”

Now a smile blossoms across his lips, and you can’t help but pull him down to you for a kiss. You keep it short, though. Plenty of time for more when you’re home.

“You know you’ve brought plenty of good into my life, too, right? Like, starting with, y’know, you?”

He closes his eyes, and you can hear him swallow.

“I don’t know how to tell you how much it means to me that you think that,” he says. Before you can say anything else, he continues, “I kind of think I’ve got the better end of this deal.”

When he says things like that, you get angry, and he tends to think it’s at him. So, since you can’t jump up and smack his brother and anyone else who’s let him go around thinking of himself like that, you just pour everything you’re feeling into kissing him instead. It’s more effective anyway, or at least you hope so.

When you pull apart again to catch your breath, he leans away from you. For a second, you think he’s going to get up to pack everything away and head home. Instead, he just reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, hidden in his hand. His eyes glint with the light of the stars overhead and, you think, flecks of green from the show across the lake.

“Marry me,” he blurts out. 

You blink and shake your head before asking, “What?”

“I had all this stuff I was going to say, but I don’t remember any of it. Just, I know we’ve never talked about it, but… marry me?”

A million things flash through your mind. You’d never thought this was a possibility, considering he was legally dead. You’ve both been planning for a life together, but this never even came up. The feeling you had earlier of being in a dream returns with a rush.

“Of course,” you hear yourself say. As if there could have been any other answer.

His hands shake as he opens the little box. The ring inside is simple, a small stone with a plain band. It’s perfect, and it slips onto your finger easily. It sparkles like Sam’s eyes, like the fireflies across the lake. 

The kiss that follows definitely should’ve been saved for home, but you can’t be bothered to care. There’ll be plenty of things to worry about to make this happen, but you can deal with them later. For now, it’s enough to let yourself believe that this moment can last forever, that the Earth will slow its motion enough to let you keep it. To keep tomorrow and its details at bay.

“We’re getting married,” you whisper against his lips.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we are.”

Your eyes drift across the lake for a second. The flickers of light are still there, dancing along the tree line. Like fireworks, you think. Little living fireworks celebrating with you. No wonder he wanted to do this here.

But.

“I’m seeing a slight flaw in your perfect proposal plan,” you say the next time you break for breath.

“Oh?”

“It’s a forty-minute drive to get home from here.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“And I’m guessing it’ll take a few minutes of thinking about baseball or whatever for you to be able to stand up so we can pack,” you add with a wink.

He lets out a dramatic sigh.

It takes a few minutes to get everything packed up.

It takes half an hour to get home.

It takes no time at all to pick up where you left off once you’re there.

The contents of the cooler get added to your growing list of “stuff to deal with tomorrow.”

It’s not a dream.

And it’s so worth it.


End file.
